Redemption's Solace
by SnowLion no Miko
Summary: He must wonder, each day, if he deserves such a life like he has with me and Trunks, after all the terrible things he's done. VegetaBulma, Bulma POV, oneshot


_**Disclaimer: **__I don't own Dragon Ball Z._

_**Summary: He must wonder, each day, if he deserves such a life like he has with me and Trunks, after all the terrible things he's done. VegetaBulma, Bulma POV, oneshot**_

_My first official V/B fanfic. I'm quite nervous about writing these two, but I hope I'll do them justice. No out and out sap, just Bulma reflecting on her relationship with Vegeta and whatnot. Hope everyone likes! _

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**Redemption's Solace**

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I might not know many things about my husband - after all these years, he has yet to open up to me about certain things - but I do know that he's changed.

Sometimes the lines on his face aren't as deep. Sometimes his voice isn't as sharp with me. Sometimes he actually helps around the house.

Sometimes, believe it or not, Vegeta actually _smiles_.

Sure, it isn't like the all-encompassing childish grins that Goku gives, or the shy smiles of Gohan, or the eager smile of his son, but they are there. They are there, in all their subtlety, and they make me the most happy when I get to see them. Or when I am rewarded with one.

I pour some water into a glass and add ice to it, making my way to the sliding glass door that leads out into the backyard. Strangely, he is with Trunks outside today, just sparring, without the added weight of the gravity room. It is a welcome change for our son; I can only imagine that he wants a little change of scenery after being cooped up for so long.

I lean against the wall, looking out of the glass and at the father and the son and feel a smile curve my lips. Usually, I would think he was being too hard on poor Trunks, but now I see that my little boy is growing up, and can take anything that Vegeta throws at him, and usually send it back to him.

Trunks now sits on the grass, panting, his purple hair falling behind him as he gazes up at the clear, cloudless sky, and the sun beats down on him. Vegeta sits beside him, and the very picture of our life post-Buu is something that causes my heart to clench in my chest and the changes that have occurred.

He is actually paternal with Trunks - I remember the days back when we were a little less than a family and more with the drama of having a child out of wedlock, and when Vegeta wouldn't even look at baby Trunks without scowling or cursing at his inconvenience.

Now, the picture that is presented in front of me is something that I appreciate. The father and the son, sparring together, talking together, eating meals together…

It was strange to see, but not unwelcome. I find it interesting to compare life before his sacrifice against Buu to his life after, and the changes are staggering. He acts like he wants to be useful around the house most times, offering to fix certain things that are out of my reach, like a crack in the roof, or something of that sort. His hold on me is tighter when we sleep, our lovemaking even more passionate than before. His time with Trunks is precious to him now.

It's like he's trying to make up for it.

He must wonder, each day, if he deserves such a life with me and Trunks, after all the terrible things he's done. I don't know for sure, but if I know Vegeta at all, that'd be something on his mind. He may act as if he hasn't regard for anyone other than himself, or that he doesn't care about all of the terrible things he's done, but I know that it is quite the opposite.

I sigh as I watch them outside, and then I see Trunks dart up, racing to the glass door and prying it open with dirty fingers. His blue eyes look up at me with childish innocence and he smiles, "I just wanted something to eat…cereal?"

It takes me back a minute before I realize that it is nine in the morning. Sometimes, despite all of his progress, I do still think that Vegeta needs to let Trunks have his rest. He is still a child, after all. I smile down at him and walk back in the kitchen and get out a bowl and his favorite cereal, then the milk. After his food is made, and he is devouring it hungrily, I excuse myself with a smile and walk outside into the yard.

The grass is soft and squishy against the soles of my bare feet as I approach the Saiyan. His ears twitch ever so slightly at the sound, knowing that it is me coming and not Trunks, because he grunts and says, "What?"

Some things never change, I suppose, "You really shouldn't get him up every day at five, especially when he's not in school…"

Vegeta snorts at my statement, and replies, "_He _woke _me _up, Bulma."

After all this time, the sound of his voice saying my name gives me chills, then I sigh as I realize what he just said, "He certainly is his father's son."

A smile curves his lips at that, when if it were several years ago, he would've cursed and shouted at me.

I reach his side and then lower myself slowly to sit on the grass. I can feel his eyes on me as he takes in my appearance. I can only imagine what I look like, since I had been up almost longer than Vegeta himself. Unfortunately, it wasn't for anything productive like training.

"How's your stomach?"

I look over at him, somewhat surprised that he'd ask. I knew he heard me throwing up this morning, it was too loud for his Saiyan hearing to not hear, I suppose. I just give him a ginger smile and sit the glass of water on the grass beside me. "Better, thanks."

His eyes graze lower, to the area where my stomach resided. His dark, onyx pools were fixated on my belly, which made me feel slightly self-conscious. Of course it was flat, flatter than it'd been since I had Trunks, but that tautness of my stomach belied what was starting to grow inside me.

There was that strange look in his eyes again, this time strangely tender, as his hand reached out and grazed the fabric of my robe, resting on my stomach. I could feel his slight embarrassment, but his face was as stoic as ever, if you didn't count the look in his eyes.

"Boy or girl?" I ask him, looking into his face. His eyes were still trained on my stomach, his strong fingers surprisingly gentle on my body. I was always in awe that these very hands could destroy planets, kill enemies, and yet be so tender when touching me…

He looks taken aback by that question, but the pad of his thumb rubs soothing circles on my torso. He gruffly answers, "Girl."

I look at him in shock for a moment. I never thought he'd want a girl. "Why?"

He shrugs roughly, and forces an answer, "Seems appropriate."

I snicker at that response, knowing that he wants a girl. Though I don't dare ask why again. I've learned that if I push too hard, he closes up.

His hand still works patterns along my torso, before moving upward and moving a stray strand of blue hair out of my face with the gentlest of touches. It's like this that he is truly open with me, caring, loving. Though he's never said the words out loud to me, I can see it in his eyes that he does, indeed, love me. When he looks at me like this, his dark eyes so soft that I'm not even certain that he's the same man that I married.

"She'll look like you." He says, his eyes boring deep into mine, as if seeing my very soul. I suddenly feel very exposed as a blush creeps onto my cheeks at his words. Then, unplanned and unexpected, his lips brush mine before he stands and stretches out the muscles of his back and arms before offering me his hand.

I quirk a brow at the gesture, but I place my small hand in his larger one, and he hefts me up as if I weigh nothing, which I know isn't the case.

"I'll try to fix us something for breakfast." He offers.

"Oh, no," I reply, waggling a finger in his face, a grin on my mouth, "I am not letting you near any appliance after you blew up my blender!"

He only smirks and says, "Suit yourself."

We walk side by side back up to the house, and as I look across at his handsome features, that familiar chill runs down my spine as I remember his words.

"_She'll look like you."_

Nine months later, after our little girl is born, I can safely say he's been right about at least one thing in this marriage.

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_**End. **_

_Well, this evolved from a simple introspective piece into something about Bulma's second pregnancy - a little slice of their life, if you will. Despite that, I rather liked it. I hope y'all did too, and I would love to hear your opinions on this. It would make me a very happy author! _

_Thanks for reading!_


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